


Pretend Dating AUs

by flintsjohn



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Undercover Missions, alternate universe - fbi agents, mentions of flinthamilton, pretended dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 16:03:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13298343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flintsjohn/pseuds/flintsjohn
Summary: Two different AUs for an anon prompt I got on Tumblr.#1: fake dating for the holidays#2: undercover mission





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love this trope so much that I just had to write both ideas! The two chapters are unrelated to each other.  
> The first one ends with implied silverflinthamilton, the second is loosely based on s2 of Quantico and has a bittersweet ending. Apparently I'm also unable to keep Thomas out of fics, whoops  
> This is unbetaed, please do let me know if you find any glaring mistakes.  
> I hope you like this, kudos and comments are always welcomed <3  
> Find me on tumblr @ [flintsjohn](https://flintsjohn.tumblr.com)!

“No.”

“Come on, James, please? You’re my best friend!” John begs, clutching James’s hand across the table with a blossoming pout on his lips.

“I already have a boyfriend.”

“I thought you’d said you and Thomas broke up,” John points out, cocking his head to the side slightly. James takes a deep breath, trying to unclench his fists before replying.

“We are on a break.”

John raises an eyebrow, waving his hand at him dismissively before launching in a new bout of begging, “Whatever, you’re free now! And it’s only a couple of days, then you can go back to pining over him.”

James closes his eyes, focusing for a moment on not strangling his best friend of five years.

“Even if I did agree to this, what makes you think that anyone would believe it? You’re not exactly my type.”

“Excuse me!” John sputters, “I’m smoking hot, charming, amazingly funny, and have impeccable taste in movies-“

“You have horrible taste in movies.”

“ _Besides_ ,” John continues, ignoring him, “You don’t know anyone that’s gonna be at the wedding, so nobody will question it.”

“Then why can’t we go as friends?” James tries again, rubbing his eyes with two fingers to fight off an incoming migraine.

“Because I promised my friend that I’d have a plus one and I might have let slip that I was happily seeing someone.” 

When James looks up again, John is biting his bottom lip, nervously fidgeting with his paper napkin.

“Why on earth would you do that?”

John doesn’t reply immediately, so James nudges his foot under the table, smirking when the tension in John’s shoulders seems to disappear, leaving a tired little smile on his lips.

“Madi is my ex, and she worries about me. She thinks I’m unable to commit to stable relationships, which is why we broke up in the first place. I just – I wanted her to think that I was… Settled, or something.” 

John shrugs, looking down at the ruined napkin in his hands. After a moment, James raises to move on the other side of the table, settling back next to John with an arm around his shoulders.

“Only for the wedding?”

“Yes, I promise. Then I’ll tell her we broke up, you and Thomas will do a Ross-and-Rachel and we’ll all be happy.”

“I don’t get the reference, but alright. I’ll help you out.”

John’s smile at that is blinding, and he tugs James in a hug so tight that he almost has to tap out of it. When he finally draws back, John says quietly, “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

* * *

“Will you please stop fidgeting?” Madi hisses at him, tugging the hem of his jacket free of his nervous fingers.

“I’m sorry! My best girl is getting married, I’m just trying not to get emotional here.”

Madi’s expression clearly states that she can read right through his bullshit, so he busies himself with adjusting her bowtie once again, before giving a final pat on the shoulders of her tailored suit.

“There. Gorgeous.” They smile at each other for a second, before the music starts and they both fall into their rehersed positions.

When Eme walks in, looking absolutely breathtaking in her white princess dress, John can’t help but glance at Madi and smile – the brides’ eyes are locked onto each other, love almost palpable between them, and both of them are on the edge of tears.

The ceremony itself is quick and simple, Madi and Eme exchaning vows that they wrote themselves and that make everyone in the audience cry. Whenever they are not speaking, though, John finds his eyes wandering on the crowd to focus on James, sitting in the third row. He feels his breath hitch slightly every time he looks at him – James’s hair stands out among the other guests, emphasized by his grey suit, and he looks so handsome that John has to make an effort to focus back on the ceremony.

Later, when he’s pleasantly buzzing after three glasses of champagne and watching the guests dance, Madi sidles up to him. She’s shed the jacket and rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, just like he did, and her long hair are now gathered up in a ponytail. 

“Don’t feel like dancing?” She smiles when he shakes his head, chancing a brief glance down at his left leg. “Hurting again?”

“No, it’s fine. Your mother snatched my dancing partner, though,” he smirks and nods to the dance floor, where James is effortlessly spinning Madi’s mom around.

“She always does that.” Madi shakes her head fondly, before looking back to John. “He seems nice. I was looking at you two, earlier. He seems to like you very much.”

John feels himself blush, tearing his gaze away from James to meet Madi’s eyes. “You think so?”

“I do. I’m happy for you, John.” 

Before he can say anything to that, someone comes to congratulate Madi, and he goes back to watching James on the dance floor. He swallows, burying his hands in the pockets of his trousers to stop himself from fidgeting. 

He keeps hearing Madi’s words in his head. _He likes you_. Of course, he thinks, to anyone that doesn’t know James, their friendship might easily be mistaken for something else. For the five years they’ve known each other, James had always been with Thomas, and John had never given a second thought to the possibility of being together. Friendship was all that was on the table, and he was perfectly fine with it. But… _But_ , after James had accepted to come with him to the wedding, John had thought back on what it was that had attracted him to the man in the first place. 

They had met at an exhibition - John was there to write an article, and James was there because he had been dragged by Thomas (or, that’s what he told John, who immediately saw through him when he noticed how James was looking at his partner). They ran into each other a couple more times after that, always finding time to bicker on whatever topic was at hand, which ultimately led to them getting coffee together to continue the discussion. Their friendship had developed pretty quickly after that, but John could not stop thinking about how he had been drawn by the man from the first moment he’d seen him in the gallery.

Now, after years at each other’s side, John knows that James is the first person he’d go to if he were in trouble, and he’s almost a hundred percent sure that James would do the same. Before this moment, though, Thomas had always been in the picture, and after the first few times John had said something flirty and had immediately been shut down, he had let up, respecting James’s wishes and boundaries. 

As John looks at James dance now, something painful tugs at his chest, like an old familiar feeling that had been forgotten and is only now coming back to the surface. He finds himself lost in remembrance of all the little moments they shared – some with Thomas, some alone – and just as swiftly as their friendship had come, it hits him. He’s in love with James. He probably has been since the moment he has set eyes on him. 

_Shit_.

* * *

John knows he behaved poorly at Madi’s wedding, basically running out the second after he’d had the realization and leaving James stranded. He knows James must have been confused, because he had received a sling of texts not an hour later, asking if he was alright. He had faked a food poisoning and didn’t talk to James for a week while he was trying to figure himself out.

They’re sitting opposite each other, now, in the same café where John had asked James to be his date for the wedding. James hadn’t let up until John had agreed to meet, convinced that there was something more to John’s disappearance after the ceremony, so here they were, sitting in complete silence in front of coffees that had gone cold some twenty minutes ago.

James clears his throat a couple of times, shifting uncomfortably on his chair. “So, how are you feeling now?”

“Good.” John mutters. He doesn’t have the guts to meet James’s eyes, not when he knows that he might spill everything he feels if he just sees that little something in his friend’s eyes. He sees James nod in his periphery.

“Good. Uh – I have a favour to ask.”

At that, John can’t keep his eyes off of James’s face any longer without being blatantly rude. He eyes the man warily, nodding for him to go on, and he's so nervous he almost doesn't notice how James's hand twitches towards his own.

“My parents are hosting their annual Christmas party, on Christmas Eve. I would – I wouldn’t ask, but my mother, she’s been worried about me since Thomas and I... Anyway, I told her I would have a date. Would you--?” James cuts himself off, visibly anxious, and John has to suppress a smile, because he feels like he’s having a déjà vu.

“Of course. Your parents love me.” He grins, and just like that the tension that had been building between them since the wedding breaks, as James laughs, shaking his head fondly.

* * *

“Shit shit fuck shit,” James mutters as he hurries past the living room in his parents’ house, John on his heels.

“What? James, are you alright?”

“Thomas is here,” he hisses. John raises an eyebrow at his friend’s petulant tone and crosses his arms. James frowns back at him, positioning himself behind John so that he has a visual of the door but he can’t be seen from the living room. 

“James! Stop behaving like a goddamn child – here John rolls his eyes at the old lady that glares at him when she walks by, whisper-shouting about Christmas and blasphemy – You know what? Maybe this is the right occasion for you two to finally talk, don’t you think?”

“What?” James’s voice is at least an octave higher now, as he shakes his head determinedly. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Oh, come on! Listen, I have seen both you and Thomas since you two have been on this break and let me tell you, it’s been painful for _me_ to be near you at times, what with all the _pining_ and-“

“Alright, alright! I get it.” James sighs, eyeing the door again while he shifts on his feet. After a second, he hands his glass to John, before thinking better of it and taking it back with an embarrassed glance at John, who simply smiles encouragingly, giving him a little push towards the other room.

As soon as James crosses the door, John follows him, positioning himself so he can see him approaching Thomas, but far enough that he can’t hear what they are saying to each other. He tries not to be too obvious in his staring, shifting his glance to the other guests every few seconds while he fidgets with his glass of mulled wine. 

When John sees the pair share a nervous laugh, he has to make an effort to stifle the wave of jealousy that hits him square in the chest. He stares down at his glass, then leaves it on the first free table he can find and makes his way out of the room that is rapidly turning stifling.

Only when he finds his way out to the balcony he feels like he can breathe again. He barely has the time to take a few steps forward to lean against the railing, when two familiar voices reach his ears, and then Thomas and James are following him outside.

“Hey.” James breathes, a huge smile spreading on his face. John turns around, eyes their joined hands, and feels his heart sink.

“We have agreed to try again,” Thomas says, following his gaze. John nods, giving them a tiny smile – he hadn’t thought that pushing James towards Thomas to finally have a conversation would result in them immediately finding their way back to each other. He should have known better, of course, because there is no keeping apart these two. 

“I’m happy for you guys,” he manages to whisper before he squeezes past them into the house. He _is_ happy for them, they are both wonderful people and two of his best friends but he just – he thought he’d have more time with James, before something like this happened, even if they were just playing pretend.

He’s putting on his coat when James catches up to him, sans Thomas this time.

“John! Are you running away again?” His tone is light, but John flinches nonetheless.

“You have Thomas, you don’t really need me now,” he says with a self-depricating little smile.

“Nonsense, there’s no reason for you to go. Stay, please?” James’s eyes are so hopeful that for a tiny moment John pauses, his arms lifted to his shoulders where he was putting on his scarf. Then the moment is gone, and he finishes dressing with a sigh.

“I don’t want to be a bother, it’s really no problem at all. We’ll catch up after the holidays, yeah?”

“John-“

“James, I’m tired, just let me-“

“I agreed something with Thomas, before I asked him to get back together.” At that, John focuses on James again, his hand still hovering over the doorknob.

“You see, there’s a reason why it has taken me so long to find the courage to speak to him again. Because deep down, I knew that there was something that had made us drift apart in the first place. Something – _someone_ – that I had strong feelings for, and that made me feel guilty as long as I kept it to myself.” 

John’s breath hitches, and he takes a small step towards James despite himself.

“I didn’t want to go behind Thomas’s back, and it wouldn’t have been fair to you, but now – I told him, and I have to tell you.” James pauses, he eyes John, and takes a step forward until they’re almost chest to chest.

“I’m in love with you, John. I know – This will probably come as a surprise to you, and if you don’t feel the same way I promise I will never speak of it again. But if you _do_ – Thomas is alright with it, he’s happy, as long as he and I are together, and-“

“Yes.”

“Yes?” James raises his eyes to John’s, a frown creasing his forehead.

“I mean – yes, I love you. I want to be with you, in any way possible, if you – and Thomas – will have me.” 

“And Thomas, huh?” James is so close now that John can count the freckles on his face. They smile dumbly at each other for a moment, before John’s eyes cut to James’s lips, and he licks his own like on reflex. John can feel James’s breath on his cheek as they draw even closer, and he lets his eyes slip closed as their lips finally meet.

Thomas finds them five minutes later, still entwined and smiling at each other. That night, for once, John doesn’t have to go home alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Silver’s back slams against the wall and a small _hoof_ escapes him, just in time for Flint’s mouth to press against his own in a fierce kiss. Silver is so surprised that his partner has to tug at him before realization dawns him and he starts kissing back with the same amount of passion. He is vaguely aware of the two figures passing behind them and into the next room, but then Flint is pressing a leg between his own and Silver lets himself relax into the kiss completely, going insofar as intertwining his fingers with Flint’s loose hair. At last, Flint draws back and lets him take a breath.

“What was that?” Silver whispers, his breathing laboured as he stares up at his undercover partner, FBI special agent James Flint, who is just now stepping back and righting his suit, like he didn’t just kiss the life out of Silver.

“There was a man, he knows me. Would’ve blown the whole op.” Flint explains curtly, tapping his earpiece to activate it again. Of course, Silver thinks. He’d shut the connection before the kiss so they couldn’t hear him on the other side.

“How exactly did you manage to find someone you know at the fanciest event of the season?” Silver follows Flint back to the foyer of the mansion so they can retrieve their coats – no sense in staying any longer if there is someone walking around that could identify one of them, Flint explains under his breath into the microphone sewed into the wrist of his jacket.

“Later,” is all he says to Silver, before they step into the car that appears to bring them back to the rendezvous so they can speak to their handlers.

“What happened?” Miranda asks as soon as they walk past the door; Madi is behind her, sitting at the makeshift working station and wearing a worried expression.

“Alfred Hamilton.” Flint spits the name like it’s something foul. Even as Silver moves towards Madi to relay the events of the night, he keeps an eye on the silent conversation that Flint and Miranda seem to be having in the corner, using mostly eyebrows and nods.

“Were you caught?” Silver focuses back on Madi at the question.

“No, we left as soon as Flint saw that man. We’ll have to find a new opportunity of getting close to Rogers, though. Didn’t have time to finish copying his phone.”

Madi nods, and though she doesn’t seem convinced, she moves to the laptop on the desk to start filling the report with the new information Silver gives her. During the rest of the meeting, she has to repeat some questions several times because all Silver can focus on is the reaction Flint had to that Alfred Hamilton, and he can’t help but think that they have been compromised in a way that he can’t begin to understand at the moment.

Two hours after that, they are back into their shared bedroom at the main house in the CIA’s exclusive training facility. They have been undercover for the FBI for almost two months now, in a joint investigation to debunk a group of rogue agents that seems to recruit new members here at the _Farm_. So far, they have been able to single out who they think is the ring leader, Woodes Rogers, and were at the party to try and get in his good graces while at the same time getting close enough to him so that they could clone his cellphone. 

As they get ready for bed, Silver chances to ask about Alfred Hamilton, though he keeps the question general enough so Flint can decide how much he wants to reveal. He doesn’t expect Flint to reply with another question.

“You’re honestly telling me you don’t know who he is?”

“Huh, should I?” Silver’s brow furrows in confusion as he gets under the covers. Flint releases a put upon sigh – a sound that Silver has come to associate with whatever stupid thought had just left his own mouth.

“He owns pretty much half of the UK, including his family. I met his youngest son, Thomas, just after he’d graduated. I was starting my career in the Navy and Thomas wanted to get into politics. He wanted to change the world for the better.”

Silver settles back against the pillows, resting on his side so he can face Flint as he speaks from the other side of the room.

“At the time, Thomas was keeping up a façade, dating appropriate women – appropriate by his father’s standards, simply because they were women – all the while fucking men when he knew it was safe. I – I had never fallen for anyone, ever, in my life. But with Thomas, it seemed like the easiest thing in the world. That is, until his father found out.  
You see, Lord Hamilton is a good old fashioned Anglican, worried about his legacy. So he cut Thomas off from the family and any possible chance in Parliament, said that if he wanted to be his son again he had to come back a _man_. Thomas’s wasn’t the only career Alfred had fucked with, though, oh no. He had told the Navy about us, and even if they had been moving towards a more inclusive environment, nobody wanted to have the Hamiltons as enemies, so they dismissed me, offered me a pension so I would keep quiet.  
We struggled for a bit, but we had each other, and we held fast to that. It lasted about four months, but Alfred was still pressuring Thomas. One day I came home, and he was gone. Vanished. I tried to contact him, tried to reach out to his brothers and friends in common, but I couldn’t get through.”

Flint pauses for breath, and Silver can see the story is weighing down on him almost as if it were a physical force.

“What happened?” he asks softly, knowing instinctively that he will dread the answer.

“A year went by with no sign of him. Then, one day, I got a wedding invitation in the mail. Thomas had given in to his father’s pressuring, with the only request that he could choose his own wife. He was marrying one of his oldest friends, who had been one of the few we had trusted with the knowledge of our relationship. I didn’t go to the wedding.”

Flint pauses again, this time to wet his lips, that even from a distance seem parched. “Six months later, I got a call from Miranda. She told me that she’d come home a week earlier and found Alfred waiting for her. He told her that Thomas had had a break down and he had been committed to Bethlem Royal Hospital. She was calling because that morning she had received word from Alfred that Thomas had killed himself.”

Silver breathes in sharply, but doesn’t say a word. He wouldn’t know what to say in reaction to something so horrible. A million questions multiply in his head, starting from the vague memory of the man he saw in passing at the party, and ending with _Miranda_ , the very same agent he had spoken to not three hours ago, and that apparently knew Flint even better than he had ever guessed.

“That was ten years ago. Miranda and I came to the States, went through the FBI training together. We have been trying to find something, anything on Alfred Hamilton so that we can make him pay for what he’s done, for what he’s taken from us, but he’s either a saint or too good at covering his tracks.”

A heavy silence hangs in the room after Flint has finished speaking. Silver has to swallow several times before he’s certain he doesn’t feel the bile raising in his throat again. Then, he stands and moves to sit next to Flint. He doesn’t touch him, guessing from the man’s body language that he wouldn’t want the physical comfort, not so soon after revealing himself so thoroughly.

“I’m genuinely sorry, Fl- James,” Silver says, keeping his voice low and reassuring, though he tries hard to keep pity from colouring his tone. “I understand what this means to you. I can’t promise you will find something, but I can offer you my help.”

Flint’s head shoots up, a glint lighting his eyes. “You would do that?”

“Of course. Well, as long as it doesn’t get in the way of our mission. But, yes, I would.”

“Why?” Flint says, almost accusingly. Silver can’t really blame him.

“You would be surprised, but in the past months I have come to find a great deal of respect for you as my partner. Perhaps even friendship.”

Flint doesn’t smile back at him, but Silver feels a weird kind of pride in the small twitch he sees on his lips, before it’s gone again. 

Though they don’t speak of Alfred Hamilton again after that, their relationship sheds the thin veil of resentment and mistrust that they seemed to have been dragging along since the beginning of their mission, and Silver feels at once exhilarated and terrified at how he can see himself and Flint grow closer day by day.

Three more weeks of training go by at the _Farm_ , and they keep up the appearances of having become lovers so as not to raise even more suspicion. One day, almost a month after the party, they receive the assignment of penetrating the NSA’s main building to get information on a target – while breaking at least a dozen laws, which doesn’t faze the CIA. Up until this moment, they have had no other opening to get intel, either on Rogers or Lord Hamilton, but the new assignment seems to be the perfect occasion.

As Flint and Billy distract the security, Silver slips into the control room to copy the necessary information on their suspect, Ned Lowe, on a drive; then, just as quick, he types in the other two names and copies everything he finds on another drive. They are in and out of the building in under half an hour, and no one as much looks their way.

That night, Silver transfers what he got on Rogers and Hamilton on his laptop. Flint joins him not five minutes later with a fuming cup of tea, and Silver is quick to hide the folder labelled ‘Hamilton’. He’s not sure why he hasn’t told Flint that there were documents upon documents on Thomas’s father at the NSA – maybe he doesn’t want the man to suffer further, or he’s simply not certain that he _will_ find anything at all. Whatever it may be, he briefs Flint on what he found on Rogers, small elements that seem out of place in the agent’s overall behaviour and that might help them finally catch him. 

It takes them another week and letting Billy in on the op, but they are able to bring Rogers to justice, closely followed by the rest of the group that they debunked, just before the attack they were planning for the G20 event in New York. They get no medal or commendation, only a pat on the back from their bosses before they are handed another mission. Flint is due overseas with Miranda for a new undercover assignment in London, while Silver is assigned back to Quantico to train new recruits – he can’t help but feeling that he’s being punished somehow, by being taken off of active duty.

He and Flint get together at a café the day before Flint’s flight back to England to say their goodbyes. They don’t talk much, both of them unable to share details of their respective jobs. A tense silence settles between them, in a way that feels unfamiliar to Silver after what they’ve gone through in the last three months. At last, when Flint stands to leave, Silver reaches a hand out to stop him.

“James, wait.” He shuffles with his backpack, reaching inside to take out a thin folder.

“I- You should have this.”

Flint sits back down, eyeing the folder curiously. “What is it?”

“I know I should have told you sooner, but I – I just wanted to be sure. I did my own digging on Alfred Hamilton.” Silver looks down, feeling almost ashamed for having kept it from Flint for so long. He can’t meet Flint’s eyes, but he feels the weight of his piercing gaze on him.

“What did you find?” Flint asks eventually.

“Thomas is alive.” At Flint’s sharp inhale, Silver lifts his head to meet his eyes dead on. 

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. There are photos in there to prove it. He’s in Cambridge, he teaches there. His father told him that you were dead, just like he made you and Miranda believe he was, so he never tried to find you. I talked to him, told him you were flying back to London. He’ll be waiting for the two of you.”

“Why-“ Flint stops, looks down at the folder and then back up at Silver, “Why would you keep this from me?”

Silver fidgets, averting his eyes again as guilt clogs his throat. “I didn’t want you to lose him all over again if what I found didn’t turn out to be true. I checked it only this morning, I promise. I also found proof that Hamilton has been taking bribes for years. A squad are on their way to arrest him as we speak.”

Flint exhales, slowly, all the tension leaving his shoulders as he slumps in his chair. He thumbs through the pictures in the folder, his face twitching and his breath catching as his eyes set on the proof that Thomas Hamilton is very much alive. On the other side of the table, Silver shifts and stands, but he doesn’t leave yet.

“Please believe me when I say that I kept it a secret only to spare you more suffering. I would never want to hurt you, not intentionally, not ever.”

Flint studies him, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He says, his voice shaky, “I believe you.”

Silver nods one last time at him, leaves a couple of notes on the table for the coffee, and gets out of the place like his life depends on it, just in time to stifle the sob that is threatening to escape him. He barely gets to his car before Flint catches up to him.

“John, wait!” 

“I have to get to work, James.”

“I know, I – I just need to know.”

“Know what?”

“Why you did this.” Flint sounds out of breath, even though the car was only a minute walk from the café.

“I told you why-“

“Why did you _really_ do this?”

Silver hesitates, shifting where he’s leaning against his car. He tries to form a coherent sentence a couple of times, but he finally settles on a lame shrug.

“What does it matter, now? You’ll be with Thomas, and I’ll be here, and it won’t matter what I feel, or thought I felt for you.”

He sees Flint’s fist clench and he swallows as flashes of those very same hands fisting his clothes run through his mind. Flint looks furious, Silver notices, and he automatically presses back against the car door.

“It’s not just your choice to make. Not when I feel the same way.”

Silver smiles sadly at him, even as his heart clenches painfully at Flint’s words. He rights himself and moves towards the other man, cupping his cheek gently when he’s close enough.

“You and Thomas deserve to live a long and happy life together, and I can’t possibly get in the way of that. I’m doing this for me, just as much as I’m doing it for you, James. This life, what it requires of us – it will always demand that we make hard choices, and I’d rather leave you knowing that you have people that love you without reserve, than be left wondering when some mission or other will take you away for good.”

Flint closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against Silver, letting him feel the tiny nod he gives. In the kiss they share next, the first since they had left the _Farm_ , Silver pours everything he hasn’t been able to put into words. It leaves him breathless and on the verge of tears, but he still doesn’t push Flint away, not yet.

“I won’t let you disappear, you know that, right?” Flint whispers in the space between them. Silver smirks and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Flint’s mouth.

“I know.”

As Silver gets in the car soon after that, he swears he can almost hear every fibre of his being scream at him to stay, but, for once in his life, he ignores his instinct and drives back to Quantico. He doesn’t look back at Flint, even though he knows he’s still standing in the parking lot.  
He knows, deep in his gut, that he’s made the right choice, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. He tells himself that he will focus on the new class of trainees, that he and Flint will still have their professional relationship and that, with time, it will get easier. For now, though, all he can think about is that he’s let go of the only person he’s ever fallen in love with, that he’s managed to self-sabotage any chance that he might have had with Flint, but that in doing so he gave the man he loves a chance at happiness. Whether his decision was ultimately selfless or selfish, only time with tell, and all that is left for him to do is throw himself in his work, and hope that it will distract him from feeling his heart break piece by piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my knowledge of the fbi and cia comes from watching quantico, so forgive me the very probable inaccuracies.  
> Flint's speech is based on Harry Doyle's, from ep 2x12 of Quantico, and you can read the original in [this](http://joshuajcody.tumblr.com/post/157332828987/he-wasnt-my-friend-he-was-my-partner-my-lover) set (tw for suicide mention)


End file.
